“I’m not swelling so’s I can notice it,” returned Clarence cheerfully.
Before leaving, Father Rector said:
“Now, boys, I’m going to my room, and when you have finished your supper, I want you, John, to bring Clarence to see me. You will wait for him outside my door. Then I’m going to see the Prefect of Discipline and have you excused from studies tonight, so you can show Clarence around.”
There came a babble of enthusiasm from both boys.
“And besides, while Clarence is our guest, you, John Rieler, are to be his host.”
“Oh, thank you, Father,” said John.
“Do you mean to say, Father Rector, that I may stay here tonight?” asked Clarence.
“Yes, my boy”—here the Rector’s voice and face, despite himself, gave hint of a great pity; “you are to be my guest till we’ve got everything fixed to see that you are placed in proper care.”
“Isn’t he a trump!” cried Clarence as the Rector left.
“Trump! I should say he is.”